My Feelings…

Feelings on April 7th…
I’m up in the house and since I’m up in the house, I’m pulling a lot of tarot cards. I’m getting good at it. At least for reading for myself. I feel like I appreciate guidance and I’ll seek it in anyway I can, in any cosmic oracle deck or wisdom spoken by my mama or rando I meet in the world. And memes be dropping jewels too. And gifs be funny! Black people are so brilliant and funny. I digress…

So one of these tarot cards I kept pulling, was the 8 of wands. It’s all about movement, very Sagittarius vibe. It’s about doing something out your comfort zone, and doing thangs with a sense of adventure and boldness and less about perfection. And, like I said I’m in the house cause of this pandemic. And for MONTHS I have promised myself that I would be out here blogging and I never did because I was busy running these streets!

Why do I want to blog? Well, I think social media is such a quick mechanism to share ideas and it can be dazzling and pretty and funny. But it also makes me dizzy and barfy sometimes. I don’t feel comfy or safe there. Mainly cause I got a lot of feelings. I know I say this a lot, but it is the truest thing about me. I have a lot of feelings. I feel so many things, in so many ways, for so damn long. I feel for myself, I feel for other people, I feel things about people. And I always been a feeler since I was a wee little one. Can you relate?

I don’t even know where to begin. So as you all know this world is tore up from the floor up. This virus out here hurting and attacking people’s bodies and the stupidest, most masturbatory, and slimey-mouthed and racist doo-doo butt been committing biological warfare amongst the poorest and working class, and incarcerated and deputizing the world against our Asian and Asian-American family, and lying like the laziest fuckboy.

I mainly spend my days rocking myself in a corner to Marvin Gaye, consuming edibles and making elaborate meals, and avoiding cleaning and being like, “What the fuck? I really just need to stay my ass home, hunh?” I kinda like it sometimes. Mad gigs got cancelled, but the world slowed a little. I have experienced so much loss lately (for years) and I can grieve. I been inspired more, spending time with my child playing free, being with my thoughts. I’ve been writing and doing my make-up hella sexy for fun and it satisfies me like a little tender sweet thirst.

I get to be in a new rhythm with myself. That part is delicious. Besides that I’m consumed by the horrifying reality, that the most raggedyest and greedyest person ever is requiring emotional handjobs from other elected official leaders before he makes life-saving decisions to get people resources to live. Why is the world this way? I force myself to meditate on other things. That there are so many more beautiful and delicious and sexy people in the world who are brilliant and surviving and connected to spirit and are queer and full of wild passion for life and healing. I pray for all of us who are in the house and falling apart. Who are out working at the job and inside are falling apart. Whoa, this shit is not easy!!!

I think mainly, I’m plotting on the sweetnesses and how to expand them in magnificent and delicious ways, on a cellular level within me. How to distill my warrior energy into the most nurturing and tender movement in the world? How do I not die?

My Recipe for succulence:
Thousands of petals and leaves of sweetness from within
Dreaming eyes wide-open, mouth agape at the awe of it all
Copious vintage Black Lesbian erotica to heal unrequited queer youth
Cinnamon cannabis drop to be nice to my lungs
talking to myself in sweet and elaborate lovingly ways
Mad amounts of Hugging myself really hard
following the lead of my daughter
Mad citrus and home-cooked meals
dancing when i feel like it
sitting my ass down and feeling it
talking with my ancestors about all of the things
massaging my body in the bathtub
thinking and feeling sexy
truly bonding with my wife in a tender emotional way
avoiding anything that makes me feel weird on the inside of me
poetry galore
doing bullshit that is numbing
looking at my messy house and being like, “whatever”
Binge watching thangs, all the thangs